by Stevie Kopas
“Oh, you haven’t heard? I’m goin’ for an island look these days.” Clyde laughed and continued to massage his scalp.
Andrew chuckled once more as he retrieved their supply bag from the truck before slamming the door shut.
A dry, raspy growl invaded his ears and he turned on his heels, raising the chef knife. Andrew was puzzled; he saw nothing but he definitely heard the sinister sound somewhere in the parking garage. He looked to his brother who’d stopped mid-head-rub and was reassured by the look on Clyde’s face that he’d heard it, too.
Gary stepped up beside Andrew and put his hands on his hips, his mouth forming a grim line. “There must have been an old one lying about somewhere up here that we’ve missed all this time.” He stroked his beard and the lines etched in his brow showed his deep concern in response to the eerie sounds.
“How the hell would we have missed one?” Andrew asked, his eyes scanning the lot. “We’ve made more than enough noise in this damn place over the last couple months. What’s this one been doing? Taking a break?”
The familiar sound of shuffling feet preceded the eater finally coming into view. Its body drooped comically to one side as it hissed and spat in their direction. Most of its teeth were missing and it looked as though it had once been an attractive male in golfing attire.
Gary’s shuddered as he sized up the intruder, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something seemed wrong about this lone eater wandering the parking garage. It was almost as if he looked like at one point in time, he belonged at the resort.
“Take care of it,” he instructed Andrew, and the former cop obliged, putting plenty of space between himself and the dead golfer as Gary worked a distraction.
The chef knife, light in Andrew’s hands and not even close to being the length of his optimal weapon of choice, would have to do. He snuck up on the eater’s side and kicked its left calf in, watching as it tumbled to the concrete. It attempted to rise again but Andrew gave another hard kick, this time to the back of its neck, and the dead thing let out a feeble grunt as its neck snapped before falling motionless.
Andrew couldn’t help himself and fell into a fit of giggles. “Seriously?” He placed both hands on his knees as he spoke between bouts of laughter. “I thought he would have been more of a pain in my neck.”
“Corny ass,” Clyde responded with a smile, flicking his cigarette butt at the eater’s motionless body.
Gary snorted, rolling his eyes, “You call that a joke? ‘Necks’ please!”
The three men erupted in laughter and Andrew shouldered the supply bag, shooting his brother a silly look.
“Now that, was corny.” Clyde said.
The trio grinned and began their trek to the twenty-fourth floor.
V
The three men strolled across the sky bridge, still laughing at one another’s silly attempts to lighten the mood with awful jokes, when a foul smelling wave assaulted their nostrils. They stopped dead in their tracks, recoiling back a few steps.
“Oh God.” Clyde coughed, grimacing. He buried his nose in the crook of his arm. “What in the world?”
A dramatic frown came over Gary’s face as he put up a hand, quieting Clyde. His ears perked up and he heard the unmistakable sound of the undead lurking just around the corner of the T-shaped junction which connected them with the resort’s towers. His heart raced as he took a cautious step forward, peering around the corner. Their path to the west tower was clogged with an enormous group of eaters. As if they could sense his presence, the undead collectively turned their heads in his direction and locked eyes with Gary.
“Fuck me.” Gary muttered. “Run!”
Clyde and Andrew didn’t hesitate, tearing off after Gary in the opposite direction of the horde. The path along the sky bridge to central wasn’t clear of the undead, but it was definitely more manageable. The three men bobbed and weaved at top speed, avoiding the deadly, grasping hands. Gary was the first to the double doors and he pulled them open, impatiently waiting for Clyde and Andrew to catch up.
He kicked at a nearby eater’s skinny legs, its arms still hungrily stretching toward him even as it tumbled to the floor. He plunged his fire poker through the top of its head and let out a loud cry as he pulled it back out. His companions, out of breath, scrambled through the door he held open and Gary followed through quickly, pulling the door closed behind him with all his might.
The door slammed, but not all the way.
One of the fast eaters managed to wedge itself between the double doors. The emaciated dead woman howled at the men before her in hunger. Half of her scalp had been torn away and pieces of her skull peeked through. Her teeth snapped and her cold eyes were wide with bloodlust. Gary kicked at the dead woman’s face, grunting and repeatedly slamming the door on her torso. She wouldn’t budge. He looked up and saw that the undead were gaining on them; a mere fifteen feet separated the humans from their slow, but persistent enemies.
“Will one of you fucking kill her already?” Gary shouted above the eater’s screams.
Andrew lunged forward and buried his knife in the eater’s head, grabbing her under her armpits and pulling her forward. He toppled backwards, the dead thing on top of him. The stench of rot and excrement so close was unbearable, he threw the dead body off his chest as he rolled onto his side and retched. With the door now free, Gary pulled it shut just as the mass of undead arrived. A few fingers were severed as the door made connection with the frame. Gary pulled his keys out, hands shaking, and locked the door in a hurry. He turned too quickly and snapped the key off in the lock.
“Goddamnit!” he cried out in frustration. His key ring clattered to the floor.
Clyde busied himself with bashing in the heads of the straggling eaters who were unfortunate enough to have remained in the entrance hall. One by one, he caved in the faces of nearly a dozen shambling creatures. He heard Gary’s exasperated shout and turned. Gary’s hands shook even as he retrieved the keys from the filthy carpet.
“Can’t we make it back to our building through the lobbies?” Andrew asked, wiping his mouth and standing up.
“No.” Gary punched the glass and winced. His hand throbbed and he cursed at the snarling faces pressed up against the doors before him. “It’s the same key to get out of the building downstairs.”
“We’ll figure it out, man.” Andrew put a reassuring hand on Gary’s shoulder and turned toward his brother, a horrified expression taking over his face. “Clyde!”
A small framed eater, probably a young teenager in its past life, crept up on Clyde, its festering jaws open and ready for a taste of his flesh.
Clyde spun on his heels gracefully, not even flinching, and swung the fireplace shovel around in a manner that would impress any professional baseball player. It smashed clean through the eater’s skull and the dead thing collapsed into a motionless pile of rotting flesh.
“Homerun, motherfucker.” Clyde spit onto the corpse and looked up. “We need to move.”
Gary and Andrew nodded and headed deeper into the central tower, Gary leading the way.
“This whole thing is fucked,” Gary said as they moved through the dark hall. “How the fuck did they get in here?”
Neither brother responded to the man’s question; they had no legitimate answer to give him.
“Where are we going, Gary?” Andrew asked.
“Michelle’s little hiding spot.” He cringed as her name left his lips. “She used to spend hours down there, doing God knows what, but I figured if she was making so many trips down here that I’d use it to my advantage. I had her stash some weaponry for me. Just in case. And boy am I fucking glad I did.”
“Good idea,” Andrew replied as they turned the first corner in the interior stairwell.
They stomped quickly down the stairs and an eater jumped from the shadows, hissing wildly, latching itself onto Gary. He cried out and tumbled into the hallway, catching the attention of more undead on that floor. Clyde swooped down and curle
d his arm under the dead thing’s chin; its teeth gnashed and it clawed at his arms. When he’d pulled the eater a safe distance away from Gary, he tightened his bicep around its neck until he heard a satisfying crack. He threw its body to the floor and readied his weapon.
"Jesus Christ, how many of them are there?” Clyde’s eyes darted from body to body as the undead grew closer, arms outstretched, moving as one.
Andrew pulled Gary from the floor. “Are you bit?”
Gary shook his head and started down the hall toward Michelle’s condo. He kicked at the eaters in his way, knocking them to the floor, and pushed on. Andrew followed up behind him with his knife and finished them off. He turned once to check on Clyde.
“Keep moving!” Clyde shouted as he swatted at the approaching dead. “I’ve got it! Get that fuckin’ door open!”
Andrew hurried after Gary and stumbled over a body he’d just disposed of. He landed hard on his side and the knife flew from his grasp. An eater crawled toward him, hissing and chomping at the air. The dead man’s fingernails peeled off as he dragged himself across the floor toward Andrew. Andrew quickly rolled over, finally getting within reach of his knife as the dead man’s jaws chomped down hard onto his arm.
Andrew wailed in pain, pulling the eater off of him; a chunk of his dark flesh ripping from his body. The wild-eyed dead man slurped and chewed on the fresh piece of meat. He lunged forward again with a growl, eager to taste more. Gary’s fire poker sunk into its skull before it had the chance to feast.
Andrew’s tearful eyes met Gary’s.
Gary stared at the mortally wounded man before him, his heart torn apart at the seams with the burden he now had to bear. He raised his weapon and closed his eyes.
VI
“Step the fuck away from my brother,” Clyde bellowed. He ran toward the two men, his long hair trailing behind him.
Gary, frozen in place, opened his eyes and stared down at Andrew. Clyde pulled his brother to his feet and Andrew winced slightly, blood running down his arm from the fresh bite.
“You don’t touch him, you hear me?” Clyde threatened Gary. “You let me fuckin’ handle this!”
Gary nodded and lowered the fire poker, too emotionally distraught to argue. The undead moans roused him from his melancholy and he locked eyes with Clyde.
“I sincerely hope you can handle it when the time comes.”
Gary rushed the others toward the empty condo and guided them inside, slamming the door shut behind him and locking the deadbolt. He leaned up against the solid door and exhaled; regret weighing heavily on his chest. He watched as Andrew flopped onto the couch and grimaced in pain.
Clyde rolled his brother’s torn sleeve up to take a closer look at the bite.
“We need to clean it, stop the bleeding. Are there any medical supplies in here?”
“No. It’s all up in the other tower.” He frowned at Clyde. “Cleaning it will do you no good.”
“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that?” He threw the shovel across the room in a fit of anger, sending it crashing into a small desk.
A flat-screen computer monitor, along with a few empty bottles of liquor, sailed to the ceramic tile and shattered. Michelle’s sketch book flew open on the desk and a myriad of papers went flying.
Gary jumped in fright at both the pounding of the undead at the door and the effects of Clyde’s rage. He thanked his lucky stars that they were encased in the safety of the condo.
But how lucky could I actually be? he wondered. I’m stuck in here with an infected man and his ‘roid-raging bodyguard.
He understood Clyde’s anger, but he felt with all that they’d already been through, it was completely unnecessary. “I need a drink.”
Clyde stood breathless behind the couch his brother lay on. “Shit.” His voice went soft, his shoulders heaving with each breath. “Pour me one, too.”
His rage subsided and he looked down at his older brother. The tears inevitably came, as he knew they would. He leaned down and took Andrew’s hand as he wept.
Andrew returned his brother’s gaze and yet he looked at peace with his fate. “It’s gonna be okay.” He patted Clyde’s hand. “Everything happens—“
Clyde put a hand up, “If you say everything happens for a reason I’ll just go ahead and kill your ass right now.” A smile played across his face and Andrew chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.
“But it’s true, man. I prayed this morning.” Andrew sat up and turned his body toward Clyde. “I prayed somethin’ fierce and I offered myself as a soldier to Him, man. And if this is His way of callin’ me home, then I need to accept that.”
Clyde’s nostrils flared; he’d always hated his brother’s beliefs. It angered him to no end how a man so smart could believe in figments of the imagination. But if this is what would put Andrew’s mind at ease and make it more comfortable for him in the end, then so be it. For once, Clyde chose not to argue religion with Andrew.
Gary returned to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of Bourbon. “You’re not going to like me very much.” Gary said as he poured some of the bottle’s contents onto Andrew’s wound.
Andrew hissed in pain, cursing Gary. Gary handed him a washcloth and held up a roll of duct tape. “This will have to do as a dressing; I stripped the place clean months ago. Plenty of this stuff, though.” Gary shrugged, setting the duct tape down and pouring three drinks.
Clyde thanked him for the makeshift bandages, embarrassed at how he’d reacted earlier, and tended to his brother’s bite. The men then clinked glasses before downing their drinks in one gulp.
Gary raised the bottle. “Another?”
The others nodded and eagerly accepted the second helping, downing it the same as the first.
With a warm feeling in his chest and his nerves finally subsiding, Gary took a seat on the recliner across from the couch. He leaned back slightly and brought his hands up to his head, gingerly massaging his temples. His body was calm but his mind continued to race. The day’s events ran rampant through his brain, playing and replaying like a marathon of the worst movie he’d ever seen.
Ben’s death, Michelle’s betrayal, Veronica and Catherine’s capture. The strangers at the house left for dead, the roaming eaters in their only safe haven, and now, Andrew’s infection.
No matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, they returned, reminding him of his dire situation as the undead pounded at the condo’s door, their screams endless. And in the forefront of his mind, there stood Michelle; her smug face ate away at him and he wished with all his being that she was there in that room with them right then, so he could drive a knife through her heart.
After what seemed like an eternity, Gary finally spoke. “She did this.”
Andrew and Clyde looked up at him, confused.
“What you mean, she?” Clyde raised an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette. “Who is she, and what did she do?”
Gary laughed out loud at the realization he’d just come to. “That vile cunt.” He succumbed to the mounting hysteria and giggled uncontrollably. “Oh, God, I can’t believe it!” He gasped for air between fits of laughter. “Oh, I mean, yeah, yes I can! I can believe it!”
“What in the hell are you talkin’ about?” Andrew leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, staring intensely at the spectacle before him.
“I think he’s finally lost it,” Clyde said, blowing smoke up into the air.
“Michelle!” Gary cackled. “She let the fucking dead things out of the east tower!”
Andrew furrowed his brow in disbelief. “What?”
“It had to have been her! Earlier today, when I sent her to get the truck… I had a feeling it took her a bit too long to get back to us. It all makes perfect sense now!” Gary wiped the spittle from his mouth and leaned forward, staring intently at the brothers, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. “She was always on about those damn things locked up in there, like they were puppies at the pet shop, for God’s sake. I alwa
ys wondered about her morbid fascination with them but ignored it because, well, she’s always been a bit mad hasn’t she?”
There was no argument from Clyde or Andrew.
Gary ran a hand over his bald head, laughing again. “She was all sorts of tanked up one night when she came over to my place, babbling about how she felt so powerful when she was around them.”
“That is one, sick, bitch,” Clyde emphasized the insulting words.
“Oh yeah, she was tellin’ me how she felt so wanted and important when she’d sit in front of those doors and draw them. I thought she was playing some sort of game with me, you know? Get me to tell her how lovely I thought she was before we got down to business. But now I get it. She’s a maniac. A complete and total madwoman, and she fucking did this to our home.”
Andrew leaned back slowly as to not disturb the bite on his arm. “She ain’t even here and she’s sealed our fate.”
“She sealed that shit before we even left, homie.” Clyde stamped his cigarette out on the expensive coffee table. “I knew there was more than one reason to hate that bitch.”
Gary got up from the recliner and locked his hands behind his head as he paced the room, his blood boiling.
“I don’t wanna die in this room.” Andrew stated.
Clyde looked at his brother and shook his head. “None of us do.”
Gary stopped short when one of the papers on the floor from Michelle’s sketch book caught his eye; a portrait of Juliette. He bent down to retrieve it, finding it odd but thinking Andrew might want to have a look at it. Michelle’s one and only talent aside from completely mastering the art of being evil was her artistic ability. The woman’s drawings were so spot on, they resembled photographs.
As Gary picked up the sketch, he uncovered another of Juliette. He narrowed his eyes as he set the portrait aside and picked up the entire stack, slamming it down on the desk. He rifled through the sketches and shook his head, seething with hatred. It was almost as if Michelle had drawn out a full-fledged confession and left it there for him to find. The drawings started with the portrait, and one by one told their own individual stories of Juliette finding Michelle as she watched Catherine and Ben making love, and then plummeting to her death from the twenty-fourth floor as Michelle threw her small-framed body from the balcony.